


work bonus

by Sulfuric_animus



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Gangbang, Knotting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misunderstandings, No Beta, Oral Knotting, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26605537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulfuric_animus/pseuds/Sulfuric_animus
Summary: It was a wide known fact in the brass that the military has a proclivity towards alphas.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Others, Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Comments: 11
Kudos: 120





	work bonus

It was a wide known fact in the brass that the military has a proclivity towards alphas. They were promoted more, treated with more respect, and typically had special rewards waiting for them after a successful mission that the beta units didn’t; Which is why after several back-breaking months of espionage, late night stakeouts, and enough coffee to turn their veins to sludge, the officers of Eastern command were practically thrumming with excitement at the thought of what bounty they might receive. 

“If it’s anything other than another promotion to the Colonel, i’ll eat my hat.”

“You don’t wear hats, Havoc” Breda cut in, “besides, we put in the work too! I bet there's a sweet pay raise in our future.” Jean just rolled his eyes.

The four of them were huddled together at their desks, taking a quick break from their work while first lieutenant Haweye discussed something with Mustang in the room adjacent to them. 

“Whatever it is, it better be worth all the dates I missed out on.” Falman and Fuery exchanged an incredulous look over the table while Breda just snorted at his friend. “What! It’s been  _ months _ since I got laid, just yesterday I considered my roast beef sandwich a little too much for comfort.” Kain flushed to the roots of his hair and sputtered, then coughing more at the way Heymans slapped his back while the rest of them guffawed.

While they were busy laughing, the door to Mustang’s office creeped open and voices began to filter out

“-es, yes I understand. Don’t worry, everything will be on your desk by Tuesday afternoon.” There was a pause, and then “...Tuesday morning?” Immediately, everyone turned back to their duties, or did their best to pretend.

Riza Hawkeye strode out with an unimpressed look on her face, followed by a tense looking Colonel Mustang. “Don’t worry, I have it all under control. Enjoy your long weekend, Lieutenant.”

“That fact that you feel the need to keep repeating that ‘everything will be ok’ doesn’t reassure me in the least, sir.” She turned to the rest of them, “I’m going to be visiting an old friend of mine for the weekend and will be back Monday evening at the earliest, behave and do your work.” The  _ or else _ was unspoken. She grabbed her things from her desk, turned on her heel and made her way out the door. It fell shut with a heavy click.

  
  
  


. . . 

  
  
  
  


The moment everyone was sure the lieutenant was gone, they turned to Mustang with expectant grins, 

“So what are we getting huh? More funding? A fancy buffet?” He shrugged.

“I know as much as you do about this, it’s not exactly a ‘surprise bonus’ if it’s not a sur-” 

He was cut off as the heavy doors to the main office slammed open and a slight figure stomped in. 

“Surprise, asshole!”

They were all familiar by now with the tornado that was Edward Elric and didn’t even reach for their weapons this time. He was wearing the familiar red coat and leather pants, but for some reason was unaccompanied by his usual companion.

“Honey, I'm home!” He hollered, “and I brought paperwork with me.” It was true, there rolled up in his left hand, was a thick sheath of papers. He waved in greeting to the rest of them, nodding at Falman and giving Breda a fist bump (with his flesh hand) before heading to the other door in the room, deliberately turning the knob to Mustangs office just slightly, then kicking it in the rest of the way with another  _ bang! _

Roy huffs but ignores the door's treatment, following Edward inside and carefully shutting it almost in apology.

As he goes to sit in the chair behind his desk, he sees Ed already sprawled out and comfortable on one of the couches. His jacket is folded and pillowed behind his head and his shoes are off, oddly enough, but he appreciates the fact that at least no dirt will get on his couch.

“Cozy, Fullmetal?” He asks, part teasing part actually wondering as his legs are twisted in a way that says otherwise. Ed lets out a grunt in response and starts playing with the collar of his shirt, distracted. 

“May I inquire as to where Alphonse is? It’s odd to see you without your shadow.” There's a pause.

“He had some shit to do today. He’s visiting one of his friends who may or may not be a cat. I can never get a straight answer when I ask.” There's a bead of sweat dripping down his temple now. Mustang hasn’t noticed, focused as he was trying to decipher Edwards atrocious handwriting, but with every second passing it feels like the room is getting hotter.

Without warning, Ed feels a wave of nausea pass over him, and it’s all he can do not to vomit all over the polished floors.

Mustang is asking him something, but he can't hear it, his ears ringing like he banged his head. The weirdest part is that he’s not panicking. He’s not concerned with the tinny noise or the black spots flickering in his vision, no. Currently the most pressing matter was the pure heat running under his skin, the sweat pooling down his back and neck. The very hair on his head felt like he was wearing a wool cap in summer, while the jacket he wore made him want to scream. 

He clawed feebly at the material but his hands felt thick and uncoordinated. By now Roy had realized something was wrong, but his queries remained unanswered. Edward was flushed and panting, pulling at whatever material he could reach, obviously overheated. 

So Roy thought nothing of it at all when he went to unclasp the buckle holding Ed’s jacket closed, and eased it off of him. 

Straight away the scent of crushed flowers and melting chocolate filled the office and the Colonel jerked back, holding his nose. He dropped the jacket and sped to the door in order to get away from that delectable scent, this time slamming it shut without consideration. He plastered himself to the back of the door, eyes wide and panting for clean air only to suck in the dregs of pheromones wafting by.

His subordinates watch him cautiously in case it really was an emergency, but as he continues to look at them, silent, they begin to grow concerned.

“Uh, sir? Did something happen with the Fullmetal Alchemist?” Falman asked at last. Mustang turned towards him and considered his words for a moment.

“It appears that Edward is in heat.” 

“What!?” Fuery went white in his seat while Havoc choked on his cigarette. Almost as if on cue, a broken moan filters through the door, freezing all of them.

“What- What if this is it?” Everyone turned towards Jean.

“If it’s what?”

“Our reward,” Roy shot him a furious look, “wait, wait hold on! Remember when he walked in? He shouted ‘surprise!’ like he knew! And Al isn’t here, that kid follows the boss everywhere. Not to mention what kind of omega shows up to work when they have a heat scheduled?” Everyone took a moment to consider those words. 

“I heard Al mention that Ed was excited for something coming up.” Fuery volunteered quietly. They looked around at each other, wondering if anyone was going to speak out or disagree. 

Mustang couldn’t believe they were seriously considering anything of the sort, when another moan, louder came. 

.

.

.

The longer no one said anything, the less decided he was in his position. With his resolution frayed, Roy placed his hand on the knob once more and swung it open. 

  
  


The smell was thicker now, edged with slick that sent a thrill of arousal down Mustang’s spine. Ed lay where Roy left him, now topless but with a shirt strap tangled in the joint of his metal elbow. He squirmed in place, his hands doing their best to push down his slacks in spite of the belt holding them tight to his waist.

Roy walked over to the sprawled figure and reached down to shake his shoulder, his willpower wilting with every second he stood there. 

At the touch, Ed’s eyes snapped open and met Roy’s. They were blown out, black. Almost completely enveloping his iris, leaving only a ring of gold, and shining from his tears. His team stood far behind him, closer to the door than the couches and Breda had one hand on the handle just in case.

With Edwards' attention focused entirely on him, Roy bent down to be face to face with his subordinate.

“Edward, I know it might be difficult to respond right now, but do you consent to us helping you through your heat?” If it was possible, his pupils dilate even further and his breath hitches before nodding emphatically.

“Fuck, please yes, please fuck me.” He writhes against the soft material of the couch and someone, probably Jean, swears behind him. Roy’s hands make a path straight for Edwards belt, loosening it enough to slip the leather and underwear off in one yank. Ed gives a little cry of relief and stretches himself across the seat, exposing tight gold skin, freckled in scars and metal.

Mustang wants to give a curse of his own as his eyes wander past the pebbled chest and heaving ribs, down to the cock held in Edwards own hands as he frantically tries to bring himself to orgasm. 

“Christ that kid is wet.” Breda murmured, and it was true in all ways. Ed’s eyes glistened with pleasure and a line of drool escaped his open mouth and rolled towards his ear. His dick was dripping precome with every upstroke and a small wet stain was forming under his thighs.

Eventually it became too much to bear just watching and the five of them moved to surround him.

Roy went right to claiming Ed's mouth, their lips meeting and covering up the teens groan. As Mustang pushed his tongue in, a different hand replaced Eds own, large and callused; He bucked up into the rough palm, squealing a little when it squeezed just to the painful side of pleasure and kept going. Already he didn’t know which direction to lean, when long, slender fingers circled around his entrance. 

He was dripping, but with the hand there he went into a steady leak, already bearing down on nothing in preparation. The fingertip dipped in every now and again, teasing. 

Ed’s focus was brought sharply back to Mustang as he bites down hard on his lip and sucks Ed’s tongue into his mouth. He lets out something resembling a sob, then a scream when Bredas thumb digs into the head of his cock.

Tentatively, slightly smaller hands feel up his chest and pinch at the nipples they find. At first, it’s a sweet pleasure in contrast to the overwhelming sensation everywhere else, but as Fuery grows more confident his touch gets rougher, tugging at the sensitive skin and mouthing at him when he arches. 

He’s so completely overloaded with sensation, he hardly notices when the first finger presses into him. He tries to push into the touch, while also pushing into the mouth at his chest and opening his neck so that Roy can continue his mission to write his initials in hickeys. He definitely notices the second, and third however. They scrape along his inner walls searching for something, maybe...  _ there _ . 

He comes with something that sounds like a scream and his back snaps in such a perfect arch that his shoulders don’t touch the seat. For a moment, there’s nothing but pitch black pleasure. He can’t see, he can’t hear, he can only  _ feel _ the pure bliss emanating from every pore in his body, and for the first time in a long time, he is content.

  
  


Then, the heat slowly starts to creep back in. Ed almost snarls. No! He was so comfortable and happy and satiated, he wasn’t ready to surrender to the buzzing  _ need _ again. But try as he might to hand on, he was slowly becoming more and less aware of what was going on. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw that he’d been moved. 

Before, he lay on his back with his legs splayed, his usual sleeping position. Now, stationed on his chest, his arms and head hung over the couches armrest, while his lower half was on its knees, propped up by a stiff throw pillow. He was still hard, but the buzzing seems to have gone down since the beginning.

Behind him, he felt a shifting of the cushions, then two hands wrapped around his middle, the fingers almost meeting.

“A-ah” Ed moaned “g-god, just fuck me already, hurry, ugh, hurry the fuck up.” 

Next to him was a low whistle and when Edward turned to look, saw his team lounging on the couches across from him. Jean spoke up then, 

“The colonel has first dibs on your ass, but the rest of us had to draw straws,” he drawled, “d’you care if we fuck your mouth?” Ed’s eyes widened before shaking his head in an emphatic  _ ‘no’ _ and dropping his mouth open. Breda huffed a laugh that had him flushing at his eagerness. 

Before he could say anything else, Mustang took back his attention by gripping the end of Edward’s braid and wrapped it tightly around his fist. Ed let out a low moan that grew louder as Roy penetrated him slowly, sinking in longer than he expected. 

Ed felt like the breath was punched out of him, there was no room inside of him for anything other than Mustang’s cock. It got to a point where he was sure there was no more room inside him, but still Roy pushed on. 

When Edward finally felt the press of thighs against his own, he sighed in relief, shaky and feeling a bit like an exposed wire. There were quiet jeers and remarks being thrown their way, about how tight Ed’s ass looked and how blissed out his expression was. 

As he fell deeper into the haze, there was another commotion next to him. Breda cursed and Havoc groaned, while Falman laughed and gave a quiet congratulations. Fuery shuffled forwards, red faced and pants tented, fumbling with the button at his waist. 

Edward didn’t even seem to notice his approach, content enough where he kneeled, stuffed into stillness. He remained open-mouthed and panting until a nervous hand drew his cock into Ed’s mouth. It was soft and  _ hot _ . Fuery hissed through his teeth as he struggled not to buck his hips. The same push continued until both men were pressed fully into Ed and he felt as if he was on the edge of a eight hundred meter tall cliff.

Roy drew back smoothly, almost completely out, only to thrust back in with a force that had Ed smashing his nose into Fuery’s pubes. He choked around him, prompting a buck forward and the two soon found their rhythm. Ed felt like a doll between them. They went back and forth for what felt like forever but was probably less than twenty minutes. Fuery was apparently done with whatever gentleness that came from his nerves and attempted to give Ed an impromptu tonsillectomy. Roy, on the other hand, made it his life's mission to pound his prostate into submission with every stroke, and was for the most part succeeding. 

He was so close to  _ something _ but just wasn’t quite there yet. He gave a frustrated shout on Roy’s downstroke and without warning, Fuery was coming down his throat.

Ed’s eyes flew open and he managed to swallow a mouthful before coughing and pulling away, leaving the rest of jizz to spray over his nose and cheeks. He didn’t even wait to catch his breath when he pushed back roughly on Mustang.

“More, fuck, gimme more!” He growled.

All too eager to please, Roy brought a hand down to where they were connected, himself thrusting leisurely with one hand poised on Eds hip, as if to prevent him from pressing back. He brought his fingers towards the wet entrance, pushing two in at once and relishing the unmuffled satisfaction coming from Edwards throat. 

He scissored his fingers for a while more, watching as Breda stepped up to replace Fuery. He’s a lot more languid than Kain was, instead opting for a relaxed, unhurried pace. 

“That’s it baby,” He croons in a rough voice, “Just keep sucking. Use your tongue- ugh yeah, just like that sweetheart.” Roy adds another finger. Breda pushes in all the way, not pulling back even as Fullmetal struggles to accommodate his girth. He holds himself in there, not moving, just letting Edward suck until his eyes get hazy and Roy is up to four fingers and feels his knot swell.

He pushes deeper in, crushing their pelvises together in a lazy grind. Reaching downwards, he grips Edwards dick in his fist and jerks his hand, tight and slow. 

It’s such a difference from earlier, Ed thinks, from the rough handling and pleasure torn from him to  _ this _ . He thinks he might be crying as he sniffles in through his nose, a warm belly crushed to his face. 

Breda tastes different from Fuery, more musk and a little less salt, easy to mindlessly suck on while he runs his tongue along the different textures. 

The hand on him might hurt, but he’s not sure about that. It may just be that he’s ascended to such a higher plane of living that all his sensations are tinged with pleasure. It’s the only reason why Edward would be bucking  _ forward _ into that hand instead of away. 

Suddenly he realized why Roy stopped. He feels a swell of pressure, something crushing down his prostate, and all at once it’s too much. Ed comes for the second time with one knot in his ass, and another just beginning to swell behind his teeth. 

By the time he’s aware of it, the knot had already popped and was pouring copious amounts of come down Edward's throat.

_ ‘Fuck’ _ he thought, ‘ _ I’m gonna die’ _ . 

As he kept swallowing, Roy pulled out and turned towards his companions. 

“Do you two want to share him? I think I loosened him up enough.” Falman and Havoc looked to each other and shrugged, before nodding. It took some careful maneuvering with Breda still in Ed’s mouth, but they eventually had it where Vato was lying on his back with Ed in his lap, Jean at Ed’s back, and Breda standing by Falmans head off the couch.

Edward was exhausted by now, barely holding himself up over Vatos cock, mostly supported by the man's own hands.

“You ready, Ed?” The hands around his waist give a comforting squeeze. He nods weakly and feels Jean start to press into him from behind.

“Fuh-uuck this cunt is tight” Havoc groans “Perfect little wet ass, you’ve been holdin’ out on us kid.” Once he’s all the way in, he hooks both his thumbs in Ed’s hole and stretches it wide enough to sting. Carefully, Falman fits the head of his cock into the already stuffed ass, using gravity to sink Edward lower and lower until he’s sitting firmly on both of them. 

With a pop, Heymans is freed from Ed's throat while groaning like a drowning man, Ed celebrates this with several deep breaths, before coughing and licking his lips.

Vato gives an experimental thrust, and is emboldened when he gets a high whine in response. Jean follows his lead and the two start out with another rough pace, this time stretching and overstimulating Ed so much he simply decides to go limp, accepting whatever fate may await him. 

There’s a gasping sob that he realizes is him. A hand reaches around to stroke him and he cries again. 

“No, no, I can’t, please” he whines, “too much, so good, I can’t.”

Somebody shushes and he quiets slightly.

“You can do it, just a little more.” There's a tensing in his gut, a string drawn too tight. Inside him, Falman gives a rough thrust and comes, filling him with heat.

The hand on his crotch keeps going, not even rubbing so much as massaging the sensitive skin. Jean is still going, his thrusts growing erratic and rough, and all it takes is one more aggressive fondle to have him coming weakly, fluttering around the length inside of him. 

Havok pulls out, jerking himself off on Ed’s back while he fights for consciousness. Eventually, Edward just collapses onto Falman, who gently pulls out and rolls off the couch, leaving the omega spread out, panting, and covered in semen.

All five men stop to admire the sleeping teenager before getting dressed and gathering whatever wipes or towels they have laying around, and cleaning him up too. They go back to their work without complaint, Mustang finishing the work Hawkeye wanted well before expected. 

-

  
  
  


-

  
  
  
  


-

  
  


The following Monday has team Mustang walking into Eastern command bright and early, only to find personalized gift baskets on each of their desks.

In Roy’s office two letters lay on his desk. One is from the Fuhrer himself, commending Mustang and his men on a job well done, as well as an increase in budget. The other was written on a piece of scrap paper, with nothing but two words and a date.

XX/XX/XXX

_ ‘next heat’. _

**Author's Note:**

> haha ha nothing bad ever happens to the kennedys 😎  
> comments are appreciated considering i banged this out in 3 hours. my antidepressants make me not horny so when i am gotta roll with it. i might write more fma might not. the magic of 80hd.


End file.
